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Chief Karek replied in a gently chiding tone, as though upholding a formality that Raider had dispensed with.
Raider grinned with such delight that Seth’s breath caught in his throat. Gods, this man was beautiful. His face so striking, so exotic, his eyes so bright and captivating in spite of their arcane nature, his smile so … alive.
Raider switched into the trade tongue to say, “This is my friend and traveling companion, Seth, a Curator of the Arcanum in Masir.”
Seth bowed again to the chief and said in the trade tongue, “I am honored to meet you, Chief Karek.”
It had taken Seth aback to be introduced as Raider’s friend instead of simply as a business acquaintance, and he was only more amazed as he heard Chief Karek’s reply and understood how much status Raider had given Seth with this tribe—and how much status Raider himself had.
“A friend of our Raider can only be a friend of the Sudai. Welcome, Seth of Masir.”
After a few more semi-formalities and a return of knives, they discussed travel arrangements. As Raider had predicted, the Sudai planned to stay only overnight. They had spice to sell and were headed south to Samadesh. Seth and Raider would join the caravan for the handful of days that their paths would align.
When Chief Karek invited them into the camp, they bowed in thanks. After gifting one of their sacks of fruit to the chief, they took their leave of the tribal leader, bearing with them the other sack.
Seth followed Raider into the camp. Raider greeted everyone they encountered by name and was met with smiles and many hugs, even a number of kisses. He laughed and joked with everyone.
Observing that friendliness, Seth recalled Raider’s interactions in Shalaa, with Ahmet at the tavern and with the various town merchants. He remembered how Raider had sat in the shade with the camel breeder from whom he’d bought the butter.
At the time, Seth had thought Raider rakish and undignified.
It all looked very different to him now. Raider took time for everyone, was warm with everyone. He was … kind.
But so much still didn’t make sense. Raider’s name and what it suggested about his origins. His fighting skills. His arcane enhancements. Even if Raider truly couldn’t remember his life before them, he must remember some things. Otherwise, why would discussing it make him so angry?
And there were the nightmares. Those came from somewhere. They meant something. Maybe that Raider had suffered at someone’s hands. Maybe that someone had suffered at his.
Raider, Seth had to remember, had a lot of moods, and this friendly, gentle mood was only one of them. Even so, it was very real—a fact that grew increasingly undeniable as Raider led Seth to what was clearly their destination: the cook fire of a woman in perhaps her fifties.
Raider grinned hugely as the woman, graying braids flying, grabbed a dog before it could scarf down a stack of flatbreads being kept warm on the edge of a fire ring.
“Oh, Asha, don’t be cruel,” Raider teased in the trade tongue as the woman clapped her hands and chased the dog away. “He’s hungry.”
The woman, who had a pleasant, weathered face, raised an eyebrow and teased back with a heavy accent, “Yours is the one on top. Should I have let him have it?”
“Asha,” Raider replied in a reproachful tone that said he had no intention of answering that question.
Asha grinned, much as Raider often did, and threw her arms around him.
“It has been a year!” she exclaimed. “This is too long for an old woman. I might have been withered to dust.”
Raider laughed and hugged her back. “My beautiful Asha, why do you like pretending to be an old woman?”
“Because old women have privileges, of course.” Asha gripped Raider’s arms and leaned back to look at him, smiling. Then she said, “Now introduce me to your handsome companion before Fahet catches up with you and no one else can get a word in.”
Raider gestured to Seth and said, “My friend, Seth of Masir, a Curator of the Arcanum.”
Seth bowed to Asha. “An honor to meet you.”
“And you, friend of Raider,” she replied.
How strange it was to hear that. It didn’t sound quite right to Seth, but he didn’t know what the right word was.
He didn’t have to worry over it for long, however, because a slender, grinning boy of about sixteen came bounding into the campsite.
“Nusuru!”
“Fahet, you young rascal!” Raider replied in the trade tongue then said to Seth, “Chief Karek’s youngest son.”
